"Metaphored to death"

Metaphor is cool. Touted as the most used figure of speech, metaphor is, at its base, a comparison made by referring to one thing as another. 

Shakespeare used it when he said in As You Like It, "All the world's a stage." Hemmingway used it The Old Man and The Sea: the ocean is a metaphor for life, for man's place in nature. Mark Twain used the Mississippi River as a foundation for metaphor in The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. And Orson Scott Card, author of Ender's Game, said, “Metaphors have a way of holding the most truth in the least space.” 

Metaphors are everywhere. You don't have to be a writer to use them. Often, what we see, hear, and experience can be turned into a metaphor. I tend to think in metaphor when going about my day, which can be quite irritating to my kids (metaphors pop into conversations frequently, and though they smile and nod often, I can also see their faces scrunching up now and then while resisting the urge to roll their eyes). Yes, writers love metaphor. And here's why:

Metaphors can be oh-so effective. Like no other trick out there, metaphor can take your words and magically melt meaning into the reader’s mind. Like a chef dipping a wooden spoon into liquid dark chocolate, we writers stir and swirl words around the page, intent on making a dessert for the mind and heart. If our words are sweet enough, the memory is also strong and sweet. And that’s what we want. Strength. Impact. Memory. 

But writers beware: Metaphors can take over. We get crazy with the wordplay, and paragraphs become a twisted mystery of phrases tangling the idea. There’s nothing wrong with cool word pictures that lead readers to meaning. But let’s be real. Too much is too much.

Go ahead and use metaphor in one sensory-painted experience. Not three (in one paragraph -- oy!). Or five (on one page -- gah!). And not with an extended metaphor that just won't quit (while the reader is panting, alright already!). Let one metaphor do its work. When we use metaphor in one strong moment, the reader feels -- and remembers.

I'm preaching to myself, too. Let's not metaphor the reader to death. Make metaphors timely, sweet, and meaningful. 

Stirring the chocolate,
Erin

How to be a great writer (part 3): Accountability

I've noticed something about writers.

Writers traverse the walkways of life like young pups in a park. We love living -- and follow the excitement and passions of life that are splashed about in the colors and textures around us. We sniff along tangents with tail wagging. We immerse ourselves in sensory moments. Those moments give us pungent, profound lungfuls of oxygen -- allowing us to breathe into the rich soil of experience from which to write. And, ironically, it's those same moments that keep us from writing.

True writers write. We are committed to having a relationship with our computer, sitting for hours at a time with fingers pattering one-way conversations on the keyboard. Yes, we writers find deep meaning in creating and walking in the worlds that we've created. When we're swooshed into our worlds, in an inexplicable level, we're pulled into the screen: the sounds, smells, sights of the tangible world around us fall away, and the energy of creating takes over in an addictive rush. (If you're a writer, you completely understand what I'm talking about.)

It's a dichotomy. There is a pull toward living passionately in the world. And there's a pull of passion to create.

In order to be who we're called to be, writers need accountability. We need a friend (or foe) telling us to keep at it. Without accountability, "writer" is only a name.

Accountability is part of writing. Make a date with yourself. In fact, make and keep a regular appointment in the calendar, just for writing on your key project. Put your tush in the chair. Meet that word count. If there's one thing that getting an MFA in fiction writing is teaching me, it's that the discipline of being held accountable is the foundational discipline of being a writer.

Thank God. Because accountability takes us to a new level.

Writing together,
Erin

How to be a Great Writer (Part II)

Great writers place words in specific places, for power. With sentences, there's such a thing as a weak layout and a strong layout.

Here's a simple power tip:
Finish the sentence with the strong word, phrase, or idea.
Finish with what you want your reader to remember.

When speaking, we usually say the important info first. Then we tell more -- filling in the gaps, giving more details, walking around the subject with chatter. For strong writing, it's the exact opposite. We start with the extra, then end with the strong.

Here's an example:
The copier needs to be replaced, even if funds are low. This sentence focuses on low funds. Is the idea really about money? No, it's about the copier being replaced. So the stronger sentence is this: Even if funds are low, the copier needs to be replaced. It's a subtle difference. Add the subtle differences together, and your writing starts to shine.

You probably write the way that you speak, with weak ideas at the end. No worries. Simply go back and switch things around. Great writers don't write it right the first time. Great writers look for the strong idea, then edit the strength to the end of the sentence.

You don't edit, you say? Hm. Time to change that. (Now.) Find your keywords and key ideas, and rearrange.

Strong writers know: Strength lives at the end of the sentence.

Cheers,
Erin